


The Traditional Experience

by goingtothetardis



Series: A Series of Unfortunate Boners [7]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: (again), Awkward Boners, Butter churning, F/M, Inaccurate traditional customs, Lederhosen, Prompt Fic, Sexual innuendos, The Doctor is powerless to resist Rose and her wiles, The locals are (possibly) setting them up, Traditional dress, dirndl, insta-cock, sort of cracky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 10:12:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15794397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goingtothetardis/pseuds/goingtothetardis
Summary: When the Doctor finally finds Rose after assisting the king with a project, she's learned a brand new skill and is wearing a distracting outfit. Is the Doctor strong enough to resist?





	The Traditional Experience

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LostinFic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostinFic/gifts).



> Good afternoon! I present you all with this ridiculous piece of writing. Lostinfic jokingly prompted me with "churning butter" a while back, and I've been picking at this nonsense ever since. I was finally able to finish it today, and without further ado, have another installment to the unfortunate boner verse. ;) 
> 
> This is somewhat cracky and not at all serious. The whole dirndl thing came to me, because I have one, and it's a certain...ahem...kink of my husband's. So why not the Doctor's as well??????? BAHAHAHAHAHA. (I'm so sorry...)
> 
> Entirely unbeta'd, so please excuse any mistakes or excessive smirking and so forth. I'm not trying to be too serious here. ;)

“Ah, Herr Doctor, how wonderful to find you here. I believe I have found your lovely Rose.” The king’s guard, Steffan, meets him in the middle of the courtyard and shakes his hand with jovial enthusiasm.

“Oh, brilliant!” the Doctor says. “Where’s she gotten off to?”

Steffan smiles. “It seems your Rose has taken to the ways of our culture without any hesitation.”

“That’s Rose, for you. I’ve never seen anyone adjust to my particular brand of travel like she has. Rose has a way with the people.” The Doctor long legs match the guard’s steady pace. “So where is she?”

“Herr Doctor, it would be better to show, rather than tell, in this instance.”

The Doctor looks curiously at Steffan. “Color me intrigued.”

Steffan’s lips twitch, as if hiding a smile, but he quickly schools his features. “Herr Doctor, are you and your Rose together? Romantically?”

The Doctor stumbles over his step, taken aback by the unexpected question. “I… What?”

“Forgive me if I am too bold, but I couldn’t help but notice the special connection the two of you have while you provided aid to King Albert. She is more to you than a simple companion, I think,” Steffan says.

The Doctor sighs and shoves his hands into his pockets. The guard had directly confronted feelings he’s been trying to ignore for ages, such feelings of which, however, he’s been less inclined to shove off with each passing day. He’s glad the guard didn’t ask about any _sexual_ togetherness with Rose, because his body and his mind have two very different opinions on what should and should not be in that regard.

“It’s… complicated…” the Doctor says, finally providing the lamest of explanations to the perceptive guard. Because it _is_ complicated, and in his hearts, his carefree desires and Time Lord logic battle constantly with each other.

“Ah, indeed,” Steffan answers with a sidelong glance. “Love often is.”

The Doctor says nothing, choosing instead to simply follow the guard.

* * *

 

Several minutes later, the Doctor and Steffan arrive at their destination. His eyes widen as he takes in the scenery and the picturesque scattering of quaint, traditional barns among the rolling hills of cows, sheep, and other animals. Staggering mountains loom majestically over everything from a distance.

His curiosity about Rose’s whereabouts is firmly piqued. “So where’s Rose?”

“If you’ll follow me, Herr Doctor,” Steffan says, leading him down a narrow path toward one of three barns clustered closely together.

Steffan opens a door on the side of the building, and the Doctor strides confidently inside, excited to discover what Rose has distracted herself with while he finished some of the more technical details with King Albert.

All his excitement, the enthusiastic greetings on the tip of his tongue, disappear into a gaping abyss of nothingness in his mind the moment he sets his eyes on Rose.

He swallows heavily, unable to tear his gaze from his companion. Rose stands behind a narrow wooden barrel and moves a staff up and down in a plunging motion, churning what’s likely fresh butter with milk from the king’s cows. As she works the staff, his concentration is pulled to her outfit, one he distinctly recalls is different from the jeans and t-shirt she’d left the TARDIS with that morning. She’s wearing a traditional outfit worn by the women on Luftiosthea, quite similar to the dirndl worn by women in Austria and southern Germany.

It’s… distracting, and his gaze is instantly drawn to her breasts, which are rather highlighted by  the low-cut blouse situated _just so_ under an accentuating bodice, skirt, and apron. Her hair is twisted together in a crown of braids, and the look is quite… devastating.

On anyone else, the look would be charming and quaint, but on Rose… His insides warm at the sight of her, and the feelings he tries to tamp down sneak past his barriers.

 _Rassilon,_ she’ll be the death of him.

As he stands there, no doubt looking daft and absurd with his jaw falling to the floor and his trousers growing uncomfortably tight, a sly, tongue-touched smile spreads across Rose’s face.

“Hey Doctor, cat got your tongue?” she asks.

His jaw moves uselessly for several moments before he manages a word. “Rose!” His voice is high pitched and loud, much like it had been with Cassandra had kissed him in Rose’s body.

“Doctor,” Rose answers, smiling demurely at him from her post.

“Er, Rose,” he tries again, relieved when his voice doesn’t squeak. “What are you doing here?”

“Frau Herschel offered to give me a lesson in the traditional art of butter churning.” Rose nods at the similarly dressed woman standing next to her, who looks between the two of them with an amused expression on her face. “And she said I’m not allowed to do it unless I’m dressed in the traditional way, so what do you think?”

Rose rests the staff on the side of the barrel and steps around it to show off her dress with a dainty twirl, revealing knee high stockings under laced brown boots.  

The Doctor clears his throat and tugs on his ear, willing away the heat that threatens to cover his face. Much to his dismay, however, other parts of his anatomy twitch to life, and he holds his breath and counts to ten, while attempting to blockade the surge of hormones from reaching his groin.

“Very, very nice, Rose,” he says. “It suits you.”

“Rose is a natural at the ancient art of churning butter,” Frau Herschel says, proudly patting her student on the shoulder. “Would you like to give him a demonstration, Rose?”

Rose smiles at her instructor, and moves back behind the barrel.

“Once the milk is added, I insert the staff with the plunger on the end, and after I put the cap on,” Rose fits the small wooden piece to the top of the barrel, “I move the staff up and down, like this.” She pulls the staff up, pushes it back down, and repeats the motion over and over while holding his gaze.

Every now and then, Rose flicks her wrists to expertly swivel the staff, but the way she stares at him with a small smirk on the corner of her mouth makes him wonder if she’s exaggerating the movement more than necessary.

Rose’s rather pointed attention to the staff distracts his attention from his self-control over his physiology, and the Doctor sighs in defeat when his cock twitches fully to life in his pants. His imagination runs wild, providing an image of Rose’s hand pumping up and down his length in the same way she works the staff. Blimey, he’s glad his pants are bigger on the inside and won’t show how affected he is by her demonstration.

As if hearing his thoughts, Rose’s smirk shifts into a knowing smile.

Clearing his throat, the Doctor desperately attempts to shift attention away from himself and back to Rose.

“Brilliant, absolutely brilliant, Rose, but you know what? I’s time we’re off! Luftiosthea is back to tip top shape, and we’ve got places to go, things to do.” The Doctor bounds toward Rose and takes her hand, looking her up and down despite himself.

Rose pulls him to a stop. “Actually, Doctor, I was thinking we could stay another day. Frau Herschel said she’d love to teach us how to make cheese next.” Her eyes brighten with unspoken mirth, and the Doctor fears he knows what’s coming. “Thing is, she said you can’t make cheese in your suit. You’ve got to go local.”

“Oi, what’s wrong with my suit?” he protests, knowing the day will be much...harder...if he’s no longer allowed to wear his own clothes.

“Your Rose told you already, Herr Doctor. We prefer our guests to have the full, traditional experience. Besides, it’s obvious you find Rose quite fetching in her dirndl. Why take away her opportunity to see you in a handsome pair of lederhosen?” Frau Herschel smiles benignly at him, and he wonders if this whole thing is a set-up. The guard’s earlier comments replay in his mind.

“Fine,” he says, scowling in petulant defeat. “But no laughing allowed.”

Rose looks as though she wants to say something, but she simply bites her lip and skips to the door. “Come on, Doctor! Your lederhosen awaits!”

“Oh, Rose Tyler,” the Doctor growls, following her out of the barn. “You’re gonna regret this.”

Rose stops and turns around, blinding him with a brilliant smile. “Oh, I don’t think I will.” She holds his gaze for a moment before looking down at her chest and back to him.

His cock responds to her boldness instantly, and the Doctor curses his lack of self-control.

It’s going to be a _long_ day.

**Author's Note:**

> I fully acknowledge that I know absolutely nothing about butter churning or the proper use/wear of a dirndl. Please forgive any misinformation. 
> 
> Find me at goingtothetardis.tumblr.com!!


End file.
